Naughty and Nice

by Sarah J. Brooks

  Manuel didn’t buy it; he followed my gaze with his own. A smile spread across his face.

  “Cassie,” he said. “How nice.”

  I stared at him while I responded to Cassie’s text. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, and I had the feeling that if he saw me texting Cassie, he might take my phone and destroy it. Silently, with as little finger motion as I could use and still type, I texted quickly,

  Run

  “Your Cassie has been through quite a lot in the last few months,” Manuel said. “And she’s smart. She seems to have figured out some things that, well, let’s just say, perhaps she shouldn’t know. You know, for her safety.”

  “I told you before,” I said, my anger surging, “don’t threaten her. She has nothing to do with any of this, and, you’re right, she has been through a lot! And it’s all because of this. I’ve done everything you asked. You have my son, you killed my wife, when it is enough?” I realized I was yelling. The street around us was nearly empty. I was trying to stall to give Cassie enough time to get out of our room. For all I knew, Manuel had men on their way to our suite now. My security was strong, but I didn’t know how it would hold up against Manuel’s resourcefulness.

  “It’s enough, Mr. White, when I say it’s enough.”

  A black car pulled up and, as if on cue, a man got out and held the back door open. Manuel nodded at the driver, and then looked back at me. “Good day,” he said, and a twisted attempt at a smile spread across his lips. He turned and got into the car. I watched, my heart pounding, and then I ran across the street, ignoring the honking of horns, and into the hotel.

  I raced up to the suite and stopped outside the door. The door was closed and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but looks could definitely be deceiving. I drew my pistol, which I’d started carrying on me as soon as we got into Morocco. The metal was cool against my hand. I quickly and quietly keyed into the room. I pushed the door open and watched for movement.

  “Cassie?” I called out quietly. The suite seemed deserted; it had the feel of emptiness. I walked through each room, on guard and afraid of what I might find. She must have gotten out, I thought with a small amount of relief. There would have been signs of a struggle if Manuel’s men had gotten her first; she would have put up a fight. Her purse and phone were gone. I let myself relax a little further. I checked my phone, no messages.

  I walked back down to the lobby to check in with the front desk worker. I, of course, would never ask questions directly, but it was always amazing to me how much people tell with their bodies. I would know immediately if anything was even slightly amiss.

  As I rode the elevator down, my eyes drifted up to the cameras. There was one obviously mounted in the corner above the light box, but there were also three more, in the three other corners, to prevent anyone from being able to hide in what they thought was out of the range of the camera. I made a note to check the cameras when I got into the office.

  The elevator doors opened and my cell phone pinged. I pulled it out quickly, expecting a message from Cassie. Simon’s name came up and I opened the text:

  Cassie with me. Safe place.

  The relief I felt nearly folded me in two. I leaned against the wall and stared at the message. That meant that he’d somehow managed to communicate with Cassie and had followed the plan he and I had set up following Cassie’s abduction to ensure it wouldn’t happen again.

  I raced out of the lobby, ignoring the desk worker, and ran to my car; I needed to get to the Legacy Jewel.

  Cassie

  I awoke to the quiet rumble of the engines of Brad’s private jet. For a few moments, I kept my eyes closed, pretending to sleep while I got my bearings and thought about my next steps.

  Brad had arrived at the hotel and we’d left within the hour, racing to his waiting plane. Seeing him had created an interesting reaction within me: he had rescued me and I felt a rush of desire for him like I’d never felt before… and I was also incredibly pissed. I was exhausted and furious.

  “Why can’t we just have a normal relationship?” I asked quietly, keeping my eyes closed.

  “What, honey?” Brad was suddenly right next to me, his concerned voice in my year.

  I opened my eyes and looked at him. “I said, why can’t we just have a normal relationship?” I could hear the edge in my voice, and I saw it in his eyes.

  He sighed and shook his head. “That’s something you can never have with me,” he said softly. “Even without all of that,” he said, referring to Morocco and the warehouses, “there’s still all of this.” He gestured around to the airplane, to the plush leather furniture and the attendant waiting to bring us champagne, caviar, or anything else from the specific menu Brad had for his private airplane. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  I reached for him, and he put his arms around me. He pulled me toward him, and folded me into him tightly, squeezing me until my breath got tight, but I felt the most secure I’d felt in months. It felt good, and I felt my body respond. I pulled back slightly from him and looked into his eyes. I kissed him, pressing my mouth to his so fiercely our teeth almost hit. I wanted to be closer to him, closer than we’d ever been; I wanted him fully inside of me.

  I slithered down off the couch and settled myself between his legs, putting my hands on his thighs. I looked up at him, and he looked down at me, his head cocked questioningly.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “You don’t need to do this…”

  “I want you to fill every orifice in my body,” I said. “I want you to keep me safe.”

  His eyes widened, and he undid his jeans, slipping them off over his hips. I helped him remove them. His cock was full just based on our conversation and my position alone, the promise of what lay ahead, and I took him into my mouth. I rolled my tongue up and down his shaft, and I felt him relax under my touch, almost as if he was in a trance. I pressed my hands to his thighs and stood on my knees, accessing him in a new angle, an angle in which I could completely fill my mouth with his cock, nearly to my throat, and a little beyond. It was exciting and felt a little dangerous, a little slutty, and I bobbed my head up and down faster and faster as his moans grew in volume.

  I reached for his balls with my hand and cupped the hard, stretched sack in my palm; it was hot, alive, and I trailed my fingertips lightly over the thin skin. He shuddered and groaned loudly, grabbing my head and bucking his hips.

  “I’m gonna cum,” he gasped. “So fucking hard, holy fuck!” And he exploded, literally shot himself into my mouth. Hot cum filled my mouth and I swallowed it down hungrily, eagerly, licking every last drop off of his cock, then licking my lips as he laid back, his entire body limp.

  I sat for a moment at his feet, then I began to slowly take off my clothes. I started with my jeans, slithering them off over my hips. I hadn’t bothered with underwear that morning, since I’d left in such a rush. Brad watched me as I slowly showed him that detail. I began to pull his shirt up off over my head, and he leaned forward and stopped me, putting his hand on my forearm.

  “That’s my shirt,” he said, his eyes hot with arousal.

  “It is,” I said. “It was the first one I grabbed this morning when you told me to get the fuck out of the suite.”

  “Keep it on,” he growled in a low voice. “I like you in my clothes.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said coyly, and I dropped my hand, then I leaned back, sitting on the floor with my legs out in front of me, propped up by my hands. I looked at him, burning his eyes with my own.

  He moved to the floor and laid me back gently by putting his body onto mine. He kissed me again, then slowly began to move down my body until he reached my waiting, already wet pussy. The carpet under me was plush and soft, but Brad reached up and grabbed a blanket from the couch anyway and slid it beneath us both. He bent my knees and put his face between my legs. His tongue was warm and slick, gliding along my labia like a stone skipping across a pond, teasing my clit in a way that made my breath quicken immediately. I shifted m
y hips, tucking my tailbone to give him greater access to my clit, and he put his hands around my ass, pressing his palms into my cheeks, as he buried his face deeper in me. His nose rubbed my clit as he began to flick his tongue in and out of my vagina; I felt my muscles contracting in rhythm with his tongue, climactic energy building within me. He pulled my hips close and wrapped his lips around my clit, my juices warm and flowing, and he began to suck, a concentrated vacuum that, within just a few seconds, pushed me over the edge into the most intense orgasm I could imagine. My body seemed almost confused with the sensations; I felt my climax in my fingertips, in my hair, in my eyes. Every nerve was active and jumping, and I cried out my release. He let go, and I laid back, sweating, breathless, and I began to laugh. He sidled up next to me and put his arms around me, pulling me against him. He’d remembered that I’d said I wanted him close. I giggled into his chest.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked mildly, the sound of his voice muted by his swollen lips.

  “I don’t know,” I said, and very quickly, my giggles threatened to turn into tears. I stopped and took a deep breath. “I needed that, I think.”

  “I did, too,” he said, and he pulled me close. “Do you want to take a nap?” he asked.

  “I said every orifice,” I reminded him, and I pulled away from him and rolled onto my back. He looked at me as if he’d just won the lottery, and he climbed on top of me. I spread my legs and looked at his cock, which was already ready once again. His cock was hard, red with arousal, pre-cum glistening at the tip.

  He bent my knees and entered me, sliding in so easily I hardly felt anything but the most welcome warmth and pressure, and he began to thrust. I felt the rumble of the engines beneath me, the vibration once again setting my nerves on a pleasurable edge. He thrust fast and slow, each time he built up to where he was about to cum, he stopped and slowed down. We teased each other in tandum.

  He grabbed my ass again, something he knew I loved, only this time, he began to slowly spread my cheeks with his hand.

  “You’re so wet… everywhere,” he said. And he was right; I felt lubricated absolutely everywhere. He looked into my eyes. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  I nodded, the anticipation of what was to come almost too much for me to speak. He slowly slid his index finger into my ass, gripping my cheeks and continuing to thrust slowly. My eyes widened and my body responded with a blanket of warmth moving from head to toe.

  “Oh my fucking…” I breathed, then lost track of my thought as he began to move his finger, slowly, to match the movement of his cock.

  My orgasm made me black out for a moment.

  When I came back to consciousness, the waves of sensation continued, and I moaned with each thrust until I climaxed again. This time, he came with me, and the intensity of the sensation was increased by our mutual sounds, each moan and groan a call to the other.

  After, we dressed and lay back on the floor together. I laid curled up in the crook of Brad’s arm, my arm over his chest, my head resting on his chest just near enough to his heartbeat I could feel it in my throat. The rumble of the engine was almost lulling me back to sleep when Brad spoke.

  “You won’t ever have a normal life with me, Cassie. I thought you knew that.”

  I paused, taking his words in. “I know that,” I said. “I expected some differences from my normal day to day stuff. I did not expect to be abducted, threatened, beaten.”

  I felt him sigh. I dared myself to ask the question burning in my mind, decided that now was the time.

  “Where is your son?” I asked. The words vibrated through the plane cabin. For a long moment, Brad did nothing. I held my breath waiting for his response.

  “Manuel Brown has him,” he said. “You know Manuel Brown as Mavin Toller.” Shocked, I lifted my head from his chest and craned my neck to look at him. He met my eyes. “Yes, it’s true.” He squeezed me, and I laid my head back down. He continued.

  “Manuel Brown was, I thought, a simple client. This was ten years ago. Maybe more. He came to me and said he had a building project that he wanted me to handle. I said my company would be happy to work with him, and he clarified that he wanted me, alone. A separate contract. He said he would pay me millions. My company was well established, but it was nothing like it is today, and I agreed, knowing that the money he would pay me would give me a true foothold in my dreams.

  “Then,” he said, “things began to get ugly. Manuel was a tough man to please, and it seemed like there was always something wrong, something slightly off, with his demands. He was impossible to reach, and he was… threatening.”

  I could feel Brad’s heart beating faster as he delved deeper into his memories.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t need to talk about it.”

  “I want to,” he said. “You’re in this now, Manuel knows who you are, and that’s my fault. It’s my job to keep you safe, and I haven’t been doing that. “Did you ever wonder how Legacy got its name?”

  I had. “Of course,” I said.

  “Years ago, not as many as how it feels, Manuel Brown abducted my girlfriend and my son.”

  I stiffened at the mention of his son… and of the girlfriend he had never brought up.

  “I did everything Manuel said I needed to do in order to get them back. I built warehouses all over the world. I made connections with criminal leaders in half a dozen countries. I organized trades and deals. And, for all of that, he… he killed Lorinda.”

  I gasped. His voice was dull, the words falling like weights out of his mouth.

  “Your son,” I whispered.

  “My son is alive, with Manuel. I don’t know where. All I have to go on is Manuel’s word that he’s alive, and that… that’s not worth much, but I have to take it. Legacy is named for Antoine. All of my wealth, all of the money I’d so desperately wanted, my empire, all of it came at the cost of my son, my own flesh and blood.

  “I built Legacy, built them all around the world, to serve as a reminder that my son is alive. Every penny I earn is one penny more to offer Manuel. You might think I like being a billionaire, Cassie, but I don’t care about money at all; all the money I have in the world is to buy my son back, at a cost Manuel says I’ll never be able to afford.”

  Brad was trembling and I felt him reach his hand up to his face, wiping away tears that had fallen. I held him close, tight, my mind reeling with this information.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. It was all I could say; there were no other words.

  Brad

  “Please,” I begged. “Please just give him back.” It was two days after the phone conversation where I’d heard Lorinda’s cry for the last time. I stood with Manuel at the entrance to a house in Mexico, the house where he had brought Lorinda and Antoine when he had taken them from Lorinda’s apartment in Mexico City. I hadn’t needed to track Manuel down; he had sent for me. The driver he’d sent waited on the street, leaning against the car with the door open, ready for me to get back in when Manuel decided he was done with me.

  Manuel laughed, and the sound of it chilled me. “Give him back? What have you done to get him back? You’ve disappointed me at every turn. Every project has lacked in some way. What kind of an operation do you think I’m running here, Mr. White? Give him back? You need to earn him back.”

  I looked over Manuel’s shoulder into the living room of the house. The smell was rank, and I could see the entire place was filthy. The house itself looked condemned, boards on the windows and spray paint tagging the entire front of the two story structure. Somewhere deep inside the house, music pounded, the bass loud and thrumming; I could feel it in my teeth. Suddenly, there was movement in the living room, and a man appeared with Antoine in front of him, a gun pointed at his shoulder. Antoine looked white with terror, and I blanched. My heart jumped into my throat, and my body reacted instantly, wanting to rush in and grab him, pull him to me, and run, using by body as a shield to protect him.

  “Antoine!” I screamed, tryi
ng to push past Manuel. I shoved Manuel’s chest, but he was stocky and strong; my shove didn’t move him so much as a centimeter. I felt my body bounce off of his, and I immediately pushed back, harder, but with the same result.

  “Daddy!” I heard Antoine scream, and Manuel yelled over his shoulder as he kept me at bay.

  “Get that kid out of here, you fucking idiot!” he shouted. The man holding Antoine disappeared. I screamed his name again.

  “I’ll get you back, Antoine! Don’t you worry! Can you hear me? I’ll get you back!”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Manuel said, pushing me back with one hand. I lost my balance and tripped backward, landing on my ass on the porch. “Get up, you fucking pussy.” He kicked me, and I rolled out of the way, got to my knees, then stood up. The pain in my body barely registered compared to the sound of Antoine yelling “Daddy!” echoing in my mind over and over again.

  “What do you want,” I pleaded. “Please, anything!”

  “I own you,” he said. “I own you and your life.”

  “Take me instead,” I begged. “Antoine is completely innocent. Take me, kill me, torture me, do whatever you want to me, just let him go.”

  He laughed again, tipping his head back and opening his mouth wide as he shook his head at my foolishness.

  “You’re far more valuable to me as a motivated agent, Mr. White. Kill you? No. Release Antoine? Never. You are my slave, do you understand? You will build, sell, organize, and distribute based on what I want and when. If you slip up, even once, Antoine is dead, and you will be too. Now, get the fuck off my property.”

  I stared into my glass of scotch and remembered the details, each moment, each word, of that conversation with Manuel, the first of many after he’d taken Antoine. I’d replayed it in my mind so many times, it seemed less like something that could have actually happened and more like a movie, some Oscar-nominated film that people would talk about, based on a true story, over their morning coffee or evening cocktails.